The Twelve Days of SKETmas
by Lex Complex
Summary: As part of a client's request, Bossun unknowingly steps into his father's shoes and lives out Ryosuke's past life for twelve days. At the end of the experience, he and Himeko stumble upon a present that has been waiting years to be received. (Eventual BossuHime, contains two OCs)
1. Prologue

**THIS IS A REVISED VERSION OF MY STORY WITH THE SAME TITLE, WHICH HAS NOW BEEN RENAMED TO "DISCONTINUED—The Original Version of 12 Days of Sketmas".**

This story now ties together with Bossun's past, particularly regarding his father Ryosuke, but don't expect it to follow canon perfectly. The biggest changes from the original are the inclusion of an OC and the story shifting to his point of view, but I promise he's not a Mary Sue (I mean Gary Stu). Feel free to point out if he does start becoming one. There's also more emphasis on the orphanage now because I noticed I was focusing WAY TOO MUCH on the BossuHime fluff that the plot suffered.

ANYWAY, this prologue is an abridged history of the orphanage, shedding some light on Ryosuke's relation to it and the OC. (Why am I talking so formally? Gah)

**-o-o-o-**

**-PROLOGUE-**

**-o-o-o-**

There comes a point when you just stop getting excited over certain things. You realize new clothes will fade over time, each birthday is a step closer to your grave, and your marriage becomes more of a struggle to stay together than anything else. At least that's what Dad always said. So, when he chose to get divorced and start up an orphanage, he knew there was no quitting halfway through and then starting over, much like how teenagers nowadays tend to go about with relationships. It was a commitment he wouldn't be running away from.

He said describing it as 'difficult' would be a grave understatement. There were just too many things he didn't take into account—top of the list being the kids themselves. He and his wife, Yuzu-san, failed to procreate a child before they split, and it was part of the reason he decided to care for orphans in the first place. Their lack of an offspring saved them the trouble of filing for child custody and child support, but the lack of experience would later come back to bite Dad in the ass. It didn't occur to him until after the orphanage had been built how little he knew about caring for kids, one of which was me. Frantic, he called up Yuzu-san and asked for help.

The great thing about Yuzu-san is that she's not the type to hold grudges, and while they may have had their fair share of arguments, they still cared enough to lend each other a hand. We flocked to her like moths to a flame, perhaps because she really was like a light to us at that time, a time when most of us were still recovering from the shock of abandonment or loss of our families. Sometimes, Dad would wonder what it might've been like had they given each other another chance, but it was just mostly him. She was content with her new partner and her new life, whereas Dad had us. Nonetheless, it wouldn't be till another year before we accept him as our new family and before he could finally let Yuzu-san go.

From originally sheltering seven kids, Hidamari Garden grew to take care of about three dozen, and it would continue to take in more. Some were lucky enough to find new families, but most lived there all the way to adulthood. Some left once they found a stable job, but many stayed behind and became the new staff once Dad reached the age where he couldn't work anymore. But before he retired for good, he did one last act of goodwill—he finally adopted me. Sure, it was a little awkward, being a teenager and gaining a father who was four times your age, but I loved him and it was still the happiest moment of my life. He died of kidney complications a few years later, and during his funeral, it was like we all reverted back to being children, shamelessly crying our eyes out.

Being his only son, I inherited everything he owned, which was basically Hidamari and a vintage Volkswagen he bought overseas (when I would have the time to learn to drive, I didn't know). It was an unusual feeling—suddenly becoming the boss of the people you grew up with, but everyone thought I deserved it, and I always tried to live up to Dad's reputation. I was young, though, and prone to screwing up, and I couldn't count the times I wanted to hand the responsibility to someone else. I was in the last leg of my rebellious teen years, and when I started to feel like the pressure was too much, I'd often lock myself away in my room and just say "Fuck off" to the world like it had no power over me. Not the best attitude when there were hungry kids to feed.

"Hi-ro-ki, get off your lazy ass and help out!"

However, since I had a friend like Kirishima Ryosuke, who would drag me kicking and screaming back to work, there was no way I could have ever escaped. Ryo was the kind of guy who could annoy you to death, but at the end of the day, you just couldn't hate him.

"Hiroki, stop scowling; you're scaring the kids."

"Get off my case, _Mom_."

"Who're you calling Mom, you brat?"

We bickered a lot, but he really helped me pull through those tough times. Ryo would later leave the orphanage with our childhood friend and fellow orphan Haru, and his absence would prompt me to finally man up and accept the job my father started. The next time I would see him would be during his funeral, and much like I did during Dad's, I bawled like a kid. The day after, I shut myself inside my room and promised Ryo it would be the last time I escaped responsibility. I told him I just needed time to properly grieve, and that I was doing it 'for old times' sake'.

"Let me be a brat one last time, _Mom_."

**-o-o-o-**


	2. Chapter 1

**A.N.1:**Ended up redoing this part ten times. OCD much? xD As a result, I am thoroughly sick of my own writing now. The SKET Dan will get a lot more focus in future chapters. I just gotta set the groundwork for the OCs first.

It sucks not being a native English speaker. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making sense. I hope this chapter doesn't come across like that, and hopefully you'll like it. ***hides before his inferiority complex starts showing***

**-o-o-o-**

* * *

_A lot of married people are bigamists—they're wed to their careers _and _to their significant others._

* * *

**-o-o-o-**

The ceiling fan whirred like a drunkard's slurred speech, which was pretty much what the words of the man in front of me sounded like. He'd been holding a one-sided conversation with my bored expression for the past half-hour or so.

I dug my nails into the leather of the seat in frustration. It wasn't the first time my schedule had been thrown off by a phone call from one of Kaimei Academy's faculty, nor was it the first time my legs had gone numb from sitting through a lengthy sermon about my son's growing lack of discipline. Said person sat at my right, pressing the tip of his shoe into my shin, wordlessly asking, "Can we go now?" I just got these slacks from the cleaners, dammit.

"I told your son again and again not to set the electric match too high since hydrogen atoms combust at an incredibly fast—Are you even listening to me, Inoue-san?" No, I wasn't.

Beside me, my son toted a mischievous grin that was at odds with his innocent face and his tacky round glasses. I kept telling him rectangular ones suited him better. Not that he needed them, though; he had near perfect vision. He just wore them to "look smart."

"Inoue-san?" Shut up.

Last time was clogging the drain in the boys' bathroom; this time it was causing a freak explosion during Chemistry class. He kept trying to be a troublemaker, but one glance would tell you he wasn't really like that at all.

"Inoue-san?" Go away.

Keisuke planted his heel firmly into my foot, kneading it a few times for good measure. He was probably trying to tell me, "Just talk to the guy so we can get out of here already!" Regardless, that was going to leave a mark on my loafer, and I sure as hell was going to make him polish it till I could see my reflection. That would have to come later, though.

"Uh, yeah. Nakamura-sensei, I'm very sorry about the trouble he caused. We'll replace the broken equipment as soon as possible, and I'll give him a stern talking-to once we get home. "I faced the boy and motioned with my eyes that we were leaving. Finally. "Let's go, Keisuke."

"Eh, I'm going home with you?" He made a face that would've gotten him dropped from drama school. "Lame."

"You don't talk to your father that way, young man."

At that point, we were only putting on airs for Nakamura who seemed dubious if I actually understood a word he said. Maybe I didn't, but that hardly mattered. I had apologized and promised to compensate; wasn't that enough?

I grabbed Keisuke by the wrist and hauled him to the exit, turning to give the teacher a half-hearted bow before leaving. "If you'll excuse us."

The moment I closed the door behind me, Keisuke jabbed his elbow into my side. "Being formal doesn't suit you, _oyaji_. And would it kill you to be gentle?"

My face softened as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Gentle? Says the guy who kept kicking and stomping me." Our laughter echoed down the mostly vacant corridor. Nakamura might or might not have heard us; we didn't care."So, what's your story this time?"

"Whaddya mean what's my story?"

"Don't play coy, punk. Why are you still pulling these stupid stunts? I can't keep bailing you out. I have dozens of other children to take care of and your shenanigans are costing me more than feeding them."

"No particular reason. I just feel like doing shit like that."

"Well, set yourself straight. My wallet's getting thinner with every prank you pull. I don't make a fortune writing obituaries, you know."

"Then get a better job."

"Easy for you to say."

Call me stupid or patient to a fault, but I was always willing to put up with his antics. No one else would, after all.

Keisuke used to be such a sweet kid. Where had the years gone? It seemed like minutes ago he was sitting on my lap competing for my attention against the sports pages of the paper. He'd tug at the stubble of hair running across my chin, giggling contentedly every time I winced.

"Hiro-chan, why do you have hair on your face?" he once asked. "Are you a werewolf?"

I played with his in return, tousling the mop of black locks that fell messily against his forehead. Some kids just couldn't be arsed to comb their hair properly. "Nah, I'm just getting old."

"Hiro-chan's an old, hairy werewolf!" he gleefully announced, to which the other children playing around us laughed.

"And you're a cute lil' Chihuahua." I kissed him on the cheek and gently set him down. Given a few more years, he would grow to find such gestures disgusting, so I made it a point to dote on him while I still could. "Now run along and play with the others."

That was me at twenty-four, talking like I had a grandchild already. I would be turning thirty-five soon, and I hadn't changed much—still obsessively hung up on my age. But now I had an adoptive son who made it a point to give me a set of calendars every New Year's Eve, tagging an "Another year, another wrinkle, _ne oyaji?_" along with it. Where I went wrong raising him, I had no idea.

Keisuke stopped me when we reached the front lobby. Keeping up with the Christmas season, there was a large pine tree perched in the center, the belle of the ball dressed in garlands of every color. A gold star was her tiara and blinking lights were her jewelry. I had to admit, it was beautiful.

"Say, _oyaji_, think you can wait here a bit? I need to drop by the SKET Dan's room."

"The what?"

"It's complicated. They're like the go-to people for odd jobs, and I need to ask them for help."

"With what?"

"Jeez, do you need to know _everything _that happens in my life?" He scratched his head in indignation. "Fine, just come with me then. Think your old bones are up for some walking?"

The lobby led off to three hallways: the one we just came from and one on each side. Keisuke trudged his way down the left wing, not bothering to wait for a response. His back seemed broader each time I saw it, or maybe I was just spending more and more time walking behind him. I felt a little sad—my boy was growing up and moving forward without me. I had several other children who still relied on me, but the one I actually wanted to be there for didn't even need me. Wasn't it too early to be feeling that way? I hadn't even had a mid-life crisis yet.

"_Oyaji,_ hurry up! Is your arthritis acting up again?"

"I don't have arthritis, you little—"

He let out a breathy laugh, his glasses threatening to fall off from his exaggerated gestures. "That face... Relax, old timer, I'm just messing with you. Should I walk slower? Want me to hold your hand?"

"Just keep walking."

The path led to several sets of rooms flanking us on both sides, each door labelled with the names of various clubs. Most were run-of-the-mill ones you'd see in just about any school: Glee, Drama, Literature, Handicrafts, and all that jazz. The others, though, made me check the signs twice to make sure I wasn't misreading them. Occult Research, Quiz Society, Detective, Gesuling—shouldn't that be wrestling? There was even one for _otaku_, but I was simply assuming since the sign on the door was buried underneath a poster of a teen-idol-slash-_seiyuu_-slash-actress-slash-product-endorser. Damn, that was a lot of slashes and dashes. What was her name—Himitsu Momonga? Something like that.

He stopped at a room labelled SKET Dan, another victim of ill-conceived naming whose activities I couldn't even begin to imagine. How did they get approval for all these eccentric clubs? Did I make a mistake enrolling Keisuke here?

"Uh, this is the place. What're you spacing out for? You going senile on me?" There was a point when his 'old man' jokes became nothing more than annoying. He was nearing that point.

With blatant disregard for common courtesy, Keisuke flung the door open and stepped inside. A scant total of two people were present. One of them, a boy in a ridiculous red hat with horns, looked up from the manga he was reading and flashed a smile.

"Hey, Inoue! Long-time no see! You still causing trouble?"

Keisuke flopped down onto a vinyl couch in the center of the room. I was pretty sure club rooms didn't normally have furniture like that.

"Heya, Bossun. Yep, you know me." He patted the empty spot next to him. "Come on, _oyaji_, have a seat_."_

Exasperated at his lack of manners, I took my place beside him.

"Inoue-kun, is this your dad? Did you do something again?" the other teen, a girl with short blond hair, asked. They seemed rather chummy with my son. I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Just blew up some beakers during Nakamura's lecture. He's just a substitute anyway, so he'll be gone before he starts holding a grudge against me. Can't wait to have Chuu-san back."

"If you keep this up, they're gonna suspend you," the red-horned kid said.

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, this here's my butler, Tanaka-san. Tanaka-san, say hel—" Keisuke choked on his words as I brought my fist down upon his head. Gently, mind you. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Stop fucking around. Do I look like a Tanaka-san to you?"

"No, you look more like an Alfred or Jeeves, or maybe—Ouch! Okay, okay, no more jokes. This is my dad, Inoue Hiroki. Just call him old man or grandpa or—Gyah!Hiro-san works, too, I guess."

"I'm Fujisaki Yusuke. Call me Bossun," Red Horns declared.

"And my name's Onizuka Hime. You can call me Himeko," Blondie said. "Nice to meet you, Hiro-san."

"Likewise."

"Just ignore this living relic," urged Keisuke, waving his hand to shoo me away. "Guys, where's Switch? I'm gonna need all of you for this one."

"Not here. He left early for Momoka's CD signing," Himeko explained as she set two cups on the table in front of us. Atop a shelf on the far end of the room, a small kettle was propped on a lit Bunsen burner (I flinched; I wasn't letting Keisuke near any more lab equipment). The smell of tea wafted through the air.

"Too bad. I guess you can just e-mail him the plan or something. "

"So, what's up, Inoue? Got a request?"

"Yeah. Have I ever told you guys I live in an orphanage?"

The two exchanged curious glances then shook their head. Bossun fumbled with his hat uncomfortably. "Last time we were in the same class was freshman year, and it wasn't like we were particularly close or anything. Wait, you just said Hiro-san was your dad, didn't you?"

I had no idea why my son was suddenly bringing up such a sore topic, but I took that as a cue to join the conversation. "I run an orphanage called Hidamari Garden two stations from here. Keisuke was a unique case even among other orphans—he was abandoned right at our doorstep. I'm just thankful whoever did it had the sense to leave him where someone could take care of him."

"So that means—"

Keisuke laughed. It probably meant nothing to him, being no older than a baby at that time. "Nobody knows my real name or if I was even given one. _Oyaji_'s the person who called me Keisuke, so I'm stuck with it." He turned to me with a pout. "Couldn't you have picked something cooler? Like Kai, or Shinji?"

"Keisuke is plenty cool," I griped.

The kettle wheezed from the built-up steam, and Himeko promptly ran over to turn off the flame.

Bossun's face took on a more serious expression. "Man, I didn't know. You always had this goofy smile on your face, so I—"

"Don't sweat it. I just don't like talking about it. But that's not the point here!" He shot up and sprang to his feet. "I hear the SKET Dan can do anything. I need your help to make a little Christmas miracle happen for the kids back home."

Christmas miracle? First time I was hearing it. I never saw Keisuke as the type to care about the orphanage, much less his fellow orphans. In fact, I never saw him interact with the others that often. As a child, he was constantly hanging around me, and now he just stayed holed up in his room like most teenagers tend to do. I didn't know whether to be skeptical or pleasantly surprised.

"You have to be more specific," Himeko egged, filling my cup in one fluid motion. She had probably done this a lot."Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks." _Genmaicha_, green tea with roasted brown rice—it was a nostalgic taste.

"Specific? Actually, I haven't really planned it out. I figured that's where you guys come in. I just wanted to do something for them this Christmas."

"Now here's a surprise," I said. "You don't usually bother with anything related to Hidamari. Why start now?"

"I'm not doing it for Hidamari; I'm doing it for the kids. Your old ears are so useless they can't even hear what they should be hearing."

I let his disrespectful tone slip. "What do you mean?"

"The kids, _oyaji. _You're not hearing the kids. Year after year you tell them we can't afford anything for Christmas. You think it's all about the presents and decorations, but that's not it. They just want to celebrate, to have fun. Forget the older ones like me, but the kids deserve it after all the shit they've been through."

True, as the head of the orphanage, I had the last say in matters like that. My salary was barely enough to feed a family of three, and if it weren't for the other caretakers who got jobs on the side, the place would have closed down ages ago. But we were treading on thin ice when it came to budgeting. There was just enough money to go around for everybody-anything else would likely send us drowning in debt. Not that I didn't get what Keisuke was saying.

It was the first time I had heard him speak so strongly about something. Was I wrong about him not caring? There was so much I didn't understand about my own son. I did, however, know that he was more of a man than I ever was at his age. The thought put a smile on my face.

"What's with the disgusting expression, _oyaji_? You're giving me the creeps. Quit it!"

"Don't talk to your dad that way, you rude brat!" I snapped, but it was useless trying to get angry now. "I'm not telling you why I'm happy, so there."

"What is he, four?"Himeko remarked. Maybe I _was_ acting a little childish.

"Four plus thirty, actually," corrected Keisuke. "Wait, we're getting off-topic! Bossun, Hime-chi, we need an awesome Christmas miracle!"

Himeko brandished some sort of club with the word _Flagrance _on the side. "Call me Hime-chi again and I'll clobber you." Even I was slightly intimidated.

"Okay, okay. Jeez, nobody has any sense of humor today."

"You're just not funny, Inoue," Bossun grimaced, and the sour expression he had was just a cherry on top. I nodded in agreement. "Leave the planning to us and come back tomorrow for the details. Hiro-san, if it's not too much trouble, could you come as well?"

I wasn't expecting that. Kids usually hated including adults in their agenda, but if Bossun wanted me to come, I didn't see any reason to refuse. My work schedule was rather flexible, so I assured them I would drop by. That, however, meant I would be picking Keisuke up from school, and he made an overly dramatic display of protest. A quick threat from Himeko was all it took to shut him up, though. Damn, that girl was good.

After finishing the tea—and that was some mighty fine tea—Keisuke and I bid the pair goodbye and headed home.

**-o-o-o-**

Late that night, a sickly-looking child was admitted into the orphanage, but she was brought in on such short notice that we didn't have time to prepare a room for her. Without so much as a sigh, my son offered his room. I was honestly beginning to re-evaluate my entire notion of Keisuke—he was causing more and more trouble at school, but he was also becoming more and more responsible at home. But really, he could do without the former.

Another thing I wasn't expecting that evening was him approaching me.

"_Oyaji_, can I crash in your bed tonight? We don't exactly have a sofa I can sleep on." He kept fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. Was talking to me that uncomfortable?

"Oh, of course. Remember to lock the door just to be safe."

"If I do that, how're you gonna get in?"

"Why would I need to? I'll be sleeping here in the office."

"What? No!" He slammed his hand on my desk for emphasis. It was overkill, honestly."Your bed's big enough for two, isn't it? I mean, it's a little awkward, but you're my dad, so—"

"Aww, Keisuke…"

"No. Hell no! Stop making that 'You're such a sweetie' face. It's disgusting!"

Was he red from anger or embarrassment? I didn't particularly care. No matter how old Keisuke got, the one thing about him that would always be adorable was his fatal allergy towards affection. Teasing him should be a national pastime.

Arms outstretched, I took a step forward. "Come here, son. Give your daddy a hug!"

"Get away from me, you dirty old fart! And if you hug me in bed, even if it's in your sleep, I swear I'll cut off both your arms!"

"Fine, fine, no hugging. This should be okay, though."

My hand found a place on top of its head and gently ruffled his raven locks. I ran my fingers through the strands, stumbling across tangles in several areas. He _still_ couldn't be arsed to comb his hair properly? Such a kid.

"You're acting weirder than usual," he said. "I think you _are_ going senile on me."

"Maybe I am."

I couldn't put all the blame on Keisuke for being distant. Between managing the orphanage and working for a publishing company, I barely had time for him. If he had a mother, maybe he wouldn't be so rebellious. However, since Ryosuke's passing, I had become the type of person who would sooner marry his career over an actual woman. At my age, maybe it was too late to even consider finding someone. Keisuke would grow up never knowing a mother's love, and my brand of love was probably half-assed at best. Did I make his life worse by adopting him?

"_Oyaji_, I'm going now. Don't work yourself to death. I'm not gonna go to sleep until you come up, you hear me?"

Was he giving me an incentive to sleep early? Good grief, I really didn't understand my own son, but I was very happy to hear him say that.

**-o-o-o-**

**A.N.2: **What is wrong with FFnet's spell checker? "Combust" is misspelled? On which planet? xD

Sorry I barely gave Bossun and Himeko any lines. They'll have a much bigger role to play soon, and Switch, too, of course.

I'd love to hear your opinions on this chapter. See you in the next one.


	3. Side 1x

Since I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, I didn't have time to advance the plot (all my creative juices are going into the novel, you see), so I'll just leave a side chapter for now. Side chapters are in Keisuke's POV and are mainly for addressing things that Hiro's perspective doesn't cover.

This one starts near the end of Chapter 1. Have a dose of Keisuke's messed up thoughts. I think my writing's improving over time, or maybe that's the lack of sleep talking. :p

**-o-o-o-**

**Side Chapter 1x**

**-o-o-o-**

I won't wax poetry—I both love and hate my so-called dad. Is that weird? Feelings are complicated, and you can't expect me to believe you've ever only harbored one kind of emotion for any given person. I love that _oyaji _cares; I hate that he cares. Does this make me crazy? Then again, can anyone really say they're perfectly sane?

There was a time when everything about revolved around him, but that goes for every other kid in the orphanage. He was a dull man with a short fuse, ashamed of his unknown roots to the point of bleaching his hair blond and wearing colored contacts. He could fool the entire world, but he wasn't fooling himself. Now that I think about it, I kinda pity _oyaji_. He was kind, though, and that was all he needed to be.

I think I started hating him when he adopted me. Don't get me wrong, I was very happy he chose me, but I wish he _hadn't_ chosen me. I wish he'd never get the urge to choose _anyone_. When taking care of so many, you're not supposed to pick one person over the others. The moment you do, you set yourself and that person up for a never-ending parade of hate. I don't think _oyaji_ gave it much thought—almost everyone who grew up alongside me left Hidamari the first chance they got. The few that stayed to work there made it a point to treat me like dirt behind his back. And he wonders why I have such a fucked up personality? Heh.

I wasn't lying, though, when I said the kids deserved a Christmas miracle. _Oyaji _had changed over the years; I don't know whether it's just part of growing older or it's the stress from his two jobs that was making him so distant. I wanted something extraordinary to happen that will, hopefully, turn him back into the Hiro-chan I used to adore. Maybe then the kids will see what a good person he is. At least even if _I_ hated his guts, he would have dozens of other people who will more than make up for that. I'm counting on you, SKET Dan.

That night, I offered my room to the newly-orphaned girl who was brought in. There wasn't any deep meaning behind it—it was just a human thing to do, helping others. I'm a little messed up but I still have a heart. Unfortunately, being nice doesn't pay, and I found myself with nowhere to sleep. There was the rec room with the alphabet mat, but I didn't feel like sleeping on the floor. So, I went for the embarrassing option. Stupid me.

I found him sitting behind the desk in his office. A mountain of paperwork was piled up on both ends of the table. Lazy bum, don't procrastinate.

"_Oyaji_, can I crash in your bed tonight? We don't exactly have a sofa I can sleep on."

"Oh, of course. Remember to lock the door just to be safe." Just like that? Not gonna say anything else? No 'don't touch this' or 'don't break that'?

I really should've ended the conversation there, but my mouth was moving before I realized it. "If I do that, how're you gonna get in?"

"Why would I need to? I'll be sleeping here in the office."

"What? No!" I slammed my hand on his desk for emphasis. Looking back, why did I do that again? And why was I so against it? I hate the man; let him sleep in the dinky little swivel chair in his dinky little office. "Your bed's big enough for two, isn't it? I mean, it's a little awkward, but you're my dad, so—" What? No, that wasn't what I wanted to say!

"Aww, Keisuke…"

"No. Hell no! Stop making that 'You're such a sweetie' face. It's disgusting!"

Oh God-Buddha-Zeus, I set myself up for it. The lonely geezer was gonna start fawning all over me like I was five again. I instinctively backed away. Arms outstretched, he took a step forward. "Come here, son. Give your daddy a hug!" Fuck.

"Get away from me, you dirty old fart! And if you hug me in bed, even if it's in your sleep, I swear I'll cut off both your arms!"

"Fine, fine, no hugging. This should be okay, though."

His hand landed on top of my head and gently ruffled my hair. Stout fingers carded the strands, making me cringe each time they got caught in one of the tangles. Okay, I couldn't be bothered to comb my hair properly sometimes. Get off my case.

"You're acting weirder than usual," I said. "I think you _are_ going senile on me."

"Maybe I am."

That's it, I'm not standing around to be petted like a Pomeranian in a playpen.

"_Oyaji_, I'm going now. Don't work yourself to death. I'm not gonna go to sleep until you come up, you hear me?"

Dear me: Stop saying stupid things. You're making him care about you even more. Goddamit!

**-o-o-o-**

It was my first time entering his room, but I wasn't surprised that it looked the part of one owned by a single man in his mid-thirties. The walls were tattooed with posters of bikini-clad women in suggestive poses, and there were no attempts made at hiding his stash of po—ahem—_inappropriate reading materials_, which were scattered on his bed. I didn't even want to think about what he might have been doing there earlier. Not that my hands were any cleaner than his, if you know what I mean.

Two large bookcases stood guard on either side of the door. The left shelf was for Japanese publications, and the only name I recognized there was Murakami Haruki-san's. That said a lot about my reading habits. The one on the right was for foreign books, mostly American novels. I realized _oyaji_ had a thing for depressing and morbid authors like Stephen King and Dean Koontz. That also said a lot about my reading habits. Most of his collection had browned with age, their corners nicked and folded like they'd been thoroughly leafed through at least a dozen times in their lifetime. I knew the old man was smart despite his looks, but who knew he was a bigger bookworm than me? I might have to borrow some of these.

He had a small desk next to his bed where his laptop lay I saw the blinking light on its corner—which meant it was on standby—the gears in my brain started to turn.I realized this laptopwas my ticket to getting on his nerves some more. With any luck, he might actually get mad at me this time.

With a press of a button, the machine sprang to life. Then came the hard part. Any person with half a brain would've set a password, but if I knew _oyaji_, he was a sentimental old fool who would use the name of someone important to him. After all, he had once made a stray comment about his bank account's password being "Kirishima," the surname of the childhood friend he always talked that, I could withdraw all his savings and run away to live in another country. Not that I would, but it was a fun fantasy.

I went with "Kirishima" first but it didn't work, so I punched in "Ryosuke," the same friend's first name. Ryo this, Ryo that—it was hard not to remember the damn person's name when he kept mentioning him. But despite _oyaji_'s constant worshipping of this dead guy, his name didn't work either. I tried his dad's names next; neither "Inoue" nor "Takeshi" was the right one. After going through most of the Hidamari staff members, I was almost ready to give up. There was one name, though, that I hadn't tried yet, but it couldn't have been it. It just couldn't.

Reluctantly, I typed "Keisuke" and hit Enter.

No way. It ? Why me? Of all the names—why not Takeshi-_jiisan_ or that precious Ryo of his? Why remember someone who made you pay for collateral damage on a weekly basis or went out of his way to get average marks at best? I don't want this. People treat me like shit because they think I'm your favorite. Hate me so I can live a normal life already. Hate me. Forget me. Disown me. Reject me. Don't make me feel like you care; I'm actually starting to believe it. Jeez, you're the reason I'm so wrong in the head!

I was livid. I lost all interest in going through his files and put the laptop back on standby mode. I threw myself onto his bed and buried my face into his pillow, kicking his lewd magazines off the side. I was tired—tired of doing all manners of shit just to get that man to hate me. Tired of smiling and lying through my teeth so people would think I was fine and leave me the fuck alone. Tire of being me, period.

I stayed like that even when I heard the door creaking open. The bed groaned and buckled under _oyaji_'s weight as he positioned himself beside me. What are you doing? Your laptop's on the table, so go do whatever it is you were going to do. Hate me or stay away.

"Keisuke, you still awake?"Did you seriously think anyone asleep would answer that question? _Baka_.

Assured by my lack of response, he flipped me over so I was lying on my back. For my part, I did my best to look convincing. Surprisingly gentle hands lifted my head as he slipped an arm under my nape, turning his limb into a human pillow. His free arm snaked around my torso to trap me in a hug. Hadn't I just sworn I'd cut off his arms if he did that? We both knew it was an empty threat, but still. This stupid old man just didn't know when to quit.

"I wish you'd rely on me more, or at least talk to me about your problems. I feel like the world's most useless dad."

You _are_ the most useless dad. You're doing the opposite of everything I want you to do. I try my darnedest to get in trouble, yet all you ever do is stand up for me and show how frustratingly understanding you can be. Stop seeing the good in me—I lost all of it a long time ago. I talk rude and insult you to your face, but you just play along. What is wrong with you? God-Buddha-Zeus, you're a hopeless case!

"Night, Kei-Kei."

Why is this making me happy? _I'm_ a hopeless case.

**-o-o-o-**

Now that we know a little more about Keisuke, we go back to the actual story (and Hiro's POV) in the next chapter. But first, I have a novel to work on. Just bloody kill me. OTL


End file.
